


The Magical Golden Crested Exploding Wren

by the_carrots_revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-11-12 10:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_carrots_revenge/pseuds/the_carrots_revenge
Summary: Harry is tired. Too many people are making too many demands of the savior of the Wizarding world. He needs an escape, and where is better than Malfoy manor?At least no one will look for him there.





	1. Everyone wants something....

Harry apparated to the top step of 12 Grimmauld Place and paused. After taking several deep breaths Harry felt calm, letting the worries of the day go. He needed to. It wasn’t fair to Ginny for him to come home angry at the situation he found himself in; and he knew she disliked that he was ungrateful for his unearned influence.

As he entered he reflected on the past. As a school-student he could never have imagined that 12 Grimmauld Place could possibly become his oasis. It was where Sirius had lived, deeply unhappy, hidden, forgotten, in pain. It was the house of the shrieking portraits, beheaded house-elves, the captive hipporiffs, pureblood mentality. And then he had left school; and in the year that followed the house had changed for him. Understanding more of Regulus; understanding more of Kreacher… It made such a difference. Regulus, RAB, had been his real first understanding of death-eaters…. That they were not mindless sycophants; but free-thinking individuals with their own needs, desires and reasons for following. Thinking about it helped him to truly understand what death-eaters must have gone through when they began to regret their choices. The fear, the pain, and the knowledge that once they were in there was no way out except death; their own, their master’s…. an endless cycle of fear and despair.

Then, in the year that followed he had avoided people as much as possible, hiding in the house as Sirius had done before him. Unlike Sirius he had used his time to clean, restore and understand the house. It was the least he could do for Kreacher. And he had spent time talking to the portraits, and reading in the library; and he had come to understand the vast difference between a blood-purist and a death-eater. He had even come to understand to some extent why some blood-purists thought as they did; the desperation to preserve magical Britain from the Muggle-onslaught. The reminiscing of the good-old-days where magic meant so far advanced that muggles could not dream of it; rather than today – where magic held up against muggle technology fell far short. Moving pictures – Muggles had them; Owls… muggles had phones, faster more convenient, less owl shit to clean up…. Apparition; Muggles had cars and planes and (as far as uninformed wizards could see) far fewer restrictions on their movements. Throughout Voldemort’s rise the non-muggle-born magical community were watching their culture be overtaken by something they could not understand. Harry could see why they clung to their traditions and jealously guarded against those who came with new ideas. He couldn’t agree with the core belief of magical superiority of course, but he could understand.

That understanding had driven him; and the one and only time he had deliberately used his influence was in the trials following Voldemort’s defeat where he had begged clemency for any Death-Eater who showed remorse. People would have been angry… but clemency generally meant life in Azkanban rather than death… and most people had had enough death. Some escaped Azkaban of course, though luck, influence and magical talent. The Malfoys for instance…. Their wealth, the ‘help’ provided to Harry by Draco and Narcissa, Draco’s prodigious talent at potions (including the potions he had invented while awaiting trial under house-arrest which significantly helped those tortured by the cruciatus curse) and the obvious deep regret all three felt….. had led to their acquittal. The family had withdrawn to the manner where from all appearance confined themselves to good works and estate management.

And now, today, Grimmauld Place was home. The house was protected him from his fans and detractors as it has once protected the order. It was homely, and clean. The portraits spoke with him pleasantly. Phineas Black provided a solid link with the re-build efforts at Hogwarts. And Ginny…. Ginny. She had been living with him for a year now and Harry could not get over how lighter he felt when he got home and had her there, to talk about their days and let the stresses go. They had some issues of course, what couple didn’t; but knowing that Ginny was there for him, no matter what, and that he would see her at Grimmauld Place had been the final thing required to convert the mausoleum to a much-loved home.

It had been another long week. Three years on from the battle of Hogwarts and his defeat of Voldemort and it still seemed everyone wanted something from their ‘saviour’.  
He was a junior auror, but spent more time fending off fans, answering politicians’ petitions and avoiding the grand Dames of wizarding society who were convinced he would love to appear at this or that society/charitable/political event and show his support for the marvellous cause, than he had ever spent in the field.  
He could not fully escape even at home; Someone always wanted something, Neville may want a rare breed of carnivorous shrub; Luna, a quote for the Quibbler on his opinion of the proposed decimation of the home-forest of the Golden Crested Exploding Wren. Even Hermione, still trying to save the world thirty causes at a time always wanted something from him. It seemed the boy who lived (twice) had far more political and social clout than the girl who lived right beside him for most of it and without whom he, Harry would have died, and Britain would be a pureblood-worshiping society kowtowing to a deranged madman. Heil Voldemort.

Today he had been tracking Auror Leticia Crampton on a sensitive capture mission when they had both been mobbed by Harry’s fans. Once they had extracted themselves from the ragging sea of Harry-desire, Leticia has been furious, demanding Harry return to the Ministry immediately to allow her some hope of picking up the trail.  
Embarrassed and ashamed Harry had returned; where he was waylaid on entry by three different Heads of Department, all wanting his support for their bills. Two were directly opposed to each other. He was then grabbed by Percy, wanting to see if Harry could wrangle him an invitation to the Magical Britain Preservation Society’s annual ball (this year’s theme: Golden Crested Exploding Wren). He reached his office to find the charms hiding it from invitations and fan mail had failed and his desk was no longer visible, although he assumed it was still there somewhere under the burial mound of invitations, requests, letters, and presents. In desperation he sought out Arthur Weaseley, who treated him with affection, calm, and wondered if Harry would be able to speak to Minister Shacklebolt about stationing Charlie closer to home – so far away and he and Molly would feel much easier with their remaining sons closer…. He could talk to Kingsley himself of course but if it came from Harry….

And finally as he prepared to leave for the day Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic himself, and someone who really should know better, grabbed Harry to find out why Harry was supposedly siding with the opposition party over the Magical-Forest Protection Bill; and what they could do to bring Harry into the fold and make the Bill palatable to him. It was very important it passed so they could save the natural habitat of the endangered Golden Crested Exploding Wren. Harry had spent a good hour reminding Kingsley that he was not politically active and assuring him that he had not, and would not publically support either side of the Bill.  
Harry really didn’t give a damn about the bloody Exploding Wren – but it seemed the rest of Wizarding Britain did, and was determined that Harry should and would have an opinion to share.  
It was a very familiar situation.

But now, Harry had let the day go and he moved through Grimmauld Place hunting for Ginny. As he approached the kitchen he could hear her voice and Luna’s. He smiled with delight; but as the voices charged from tone and pitch to actual words his smile fell and his feet began to drag.  
“Unhelpful….”  
“Uncaring…”  
“Hermione….”  
….. Words solidified into sentences as Harry, almost against his will, continued to approach the kitchen.  
…“only he would speak to the coach. It’s not fair that I am a reserve again…”  
“Does Harry.... ''  
“…. And it’s not as if it’s nepotism, think of how many more people would watch games if they knew Harry Potter’s fiancé was playing. It would be good for the league.  
Of course Harry has influence; He’s Harry Potter. The wizarding world hasn’t forgotten him so soon. Oh Luna, if you could only see the way people line up to please him. ”  
“Well I’m sure he’ll be happy to speak with the coach….”  
“…. dreadful at that sort of thing, could make everyone’s life so much easier….”  
“I’m sure Harry does all he can.”  
“No Luna, only today he refused my father when he asked if Harry could help get Charlie re-assigned. Dad floo’ed me to tell me about it. Harry was completely unhelpful.”  
“I’m certain…”  
“No, it was a flat out refusal Luna. And Hermione, she say’s he flat out refused to co-sponsor her Bill about protecting House-elves…”  
“I thought Harry wouldn’t get involved in politics, thinks it would be unfair.”  
“No Luna, you don’t understand! He could make things so much easier. Just look at me, last year he refused, REFUSED, to contact the coach of Harpies to discuss moving me from the reserves. It wouldn’t take him anything…..” Ginny began to cry. “He never helps me. It would be so easy…”  
Harry stopped, barely breathing. He had thought, hoped, so much that Gin was over this. Last year he had explained he had no influence in Quidditch, didn’t know anyone connected with the Holyhead Harpies outside Ginny, and that there was nothing he could do. Ginny had suggested he contact Oliver Wood and get him to organise a meeting; but Harry had vetoed that option. He was not going to chase down an acquaintance of an acquaintance of an old school fellow he hadn’t spoken with in years… how over privileged and arrogant would he look demanding Ginny be made seeker when she had failed to gain the position on her own? He thought that Ginny had accepted that she would have to impress them and so get selected to play first line-up this season off her own work. From the sound of it that hadn’t happened, and now Ginny would be even more insistent that Harry intervene for her.  
Abruptly he swung on his heal. It was too much.  
The requests never stopped, and now he would be expected to put up with them at home too. And when he refused… the screaming and crying and begging…. he couldn’t do it! He just needed a break.  
He raised towards the upstairs bedroom, penned a quick note of leave of absence to the head auror.  
Where could he go? Where could he escape this life. Just for a while, he needed to breathe.  
Air whistled through his teeth faster and faster, but it felt like none reached his lungs.  
Ron’s and Hermione’s was out…. Hermione would want him to support something or other; Ron would also be concerned about Charlie.  
Luna’s was obviously out.  
Neville and Hagrid lived at Hogwarts, but Hogwarts was being rebuilt and housing students… too many people, they would all know his name, they would all want something.  
Somewhere far away then. Germany? Russia? America? But even there they knew his name and he would have to smuggle himself there… and how could he do that? Using a false name was out… his lightening scar was too recognisable. Polyjuice was out; Wizard customs (still in each country, wizarding Europe had never joined in the way muggle Europe had) checked for concealment. He would look a fool when inevitably identified.  
Muggle Britain and live separate from the wizarding world…. But no. His childhood had been full of wizarding approaches and once word got out where he was he would be mobbed, unable to use magic to hide himself for fear of muggle interaction. Polyjuice in muggle Britain? Again, no. Where would he get enough DNA to make Polyjuice so he could settle and rest. He did not want to have to run and hide and steal and cheat. He had had enough of that in seventh year.  
Abruptly the answer came to him. Malfoy Manor. It had strong wards; his magical signature would not be detected through them by anyone looking for him. It was magical. He trusted Narcissa, and even Draco would be keen to repay any debt the felt they owed him for speaking on their behalf. Who would think to physically check for him there? and finally, above all else; no one, No one, at Malfoy Manor would ever ask him for anything, or even expect anything of him.  
Finally, he could breathe. Large gasps of cool air.  
He gathered this stuff, prepared a note for Ginny to say he was away on work for a couple of days, and apparated.


	2. The places you'll go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry arrived at Malfoy manor, and gets an offer he doesn't want to refuse.

Harry strode up the drive of Malfoy Manor. There were no white peacocks in attendance, although Harry wasn’t foolish enough to think that meant the Malfoy’s had eaten them (allowed Nagini to eat them / used them for target practise / disposed of them in some other way). The nasty things were probably stalking him at a distance.  
Doubt begun to shorten his strides. Ginny hadn’t wanted that much. He could probably talk to her and she would see reason; and he could talk to Kingsley and see what he could do about re-assigning Harry to a desk job… working from home….   
He paused, foot on the lowest step of the cavernous entrance.  
Something in him knew that he could turn back now, go home. The Malfoy’s would know he had been here of course; their wards would have been triggered. But no one would know why. Things could continue on…  
But beneath the doubt was the anger. Why should he have to dodge and hide and plead and wheedle to have a normal life? Hadn’t he done enough? 

He marched upwards and hauled back his wand to knock decisively…. And the door opened.  
As if to make up for the lack of ominous creek and high pitched voice began to chatter.  
“Harry Potter is here. Trinny is happy to see Harry Potter, Sir. If Harry Potter will wait here, Harry Potter, Sir. Trinny will get the Mistress.”  
The elf departed with a crack leaving Harry steering at the empty marble where it had been.  
Seconds later it re-apparated.  
“Harry Potter, Sir, will follow me Sir. I will take Harry Potter to join the mistress for tea, sir.”  
“You know Trinny you don’t need to call me ‘Sir’”.  
“Of course I do Sir, Harry Potter Sir, Harry Potter is the savour, Sir. This way Sir…”  
Harry swallowed. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea.  
“Trinny,” he interrupted, “Did you know Dobby?”  
Trinny’s face darkened. “Yes Sir, Harry Potter is a free-er-of House elves. Sir..”  
“Are you free Trinny?”  
“Harry Potter, sir, will not be giving Trinny cloths Sir. No he wont. Trinny is a good elf, Sir.” The elf spat.  
“Please Trinny, don’t call me sir.”  
The elf opened its mouth to respond, but a drawling brogue floated down over it.  
“Oh, give it up Potter. The elves take a great delight in handing out undeserved titles.” Ah, yes. There it was. The promise that here, at least, with this man, he would never be toadied, looked up to, or … anything. Harry grinned – and glanced up at Draco.  
“Malfoy, good to see you!” Draco looked a little stunned, very discomforted, and just a bit confused. He dealt with mishearing Potter by simply sweeping the insane remark away.  
“Don’t worry Trinny. Potter here will not be handing out clothing or treats.”  
“Trinny thanks Mr Draco.” The elf left.  
“The elves don’t like it you know Potty. Anyone who took the slightest effort to understand blood-culture would know this.”  
Harry charitably decided to ignore Draco’s pet-name for him. After all he did intend to demand the man allow him to hole-up here for a while.  
“….Dobby…” he muttered. (No sentence was required).  
Draco looked appalled. “Pish Harry, we don’t judge entire species by one insane outlier! Imagine if house elves judged you by the behaviour of… Longbottom’s parents.” Harry instantly remembered exactly why he disliked Malfoy so much in school. He then remembered Malfoy’s recent potion invention which was supposedly was helping Frank and Alice considerably and felt guilty.  
Malfoy, peering at his face, seemed to read all this. “I apologise. Rather, imagine if you were judged on the actions of Gilderoy Lockhart?”  
“Dobby was no Lockhart.”  
“Pardon me Potter, but that is exactly what he was. Totally coo-coo. Carrying on and on about his good friend Harry Potter constantly… even before he’d met you. And once he’d met you… Gah, it never stopped. Didn’t he try to ‘rescue’ by throwing cake about one time? Seems messy and unproductive. How often did he actually help?”  
“He helped considerably when he died freeing us from your dungeons.”  
“Ah. Yes. Strangely I had forgotten that.” Draco paused. “I do try to put that whole ghastly time out of my head. Well. Let’s say Dobby was supremely loyal to you right up until the end. …. Usually House Elves reserve that kind of loyalty for their masters… well, he was a very conflicted elf.  
…I didn’t know he had died.”  
Harry said nothing. There was very little he could say and Draco seemed to be internalising some very complex issues. He blinked and proceeded.  
“Not a Gilderoy Lockhart in the end then. Just very strange.”  
Harry swallowed.  
“I’m sorry Potter. Not for everything, but…. Dobby’s death…. I’m glad he died saving you.   
When I was little Dobby and I used to talk about you. I rather encouraged him in fact. Neither of us knew you of course. You did live up to our imaginings very well… it’s too bad I could never get over the disappointment of what someone honourable and kind and good was actually like…  
I think if Dobby could have chosen how to go, he would have gone that way.”  
Draco perked up slightly. “And, you know, he helped fulfil your destiny. Merlin knows there was no way mother or I could have go you out of here. You were as good as dead. Thanks to Dobby the dark lord is dead instead. He would have liked that.”  
Harry’s throat hurt and his eyes prickled. He swallowed several times. “Thanks Malfoy. Your mother this way?”  
“Yes, in here. This is mother’s private drawing room.” The words and tone comforted Harry. He thought he had made the right choice after all. To be treated as a special guest, but a comfortable one, allowed into the inner sanctum of the Malfoy’s home. No special effort made; but, for the Malfoy’s, to allow someone into family rooms was an odd sort of reverse special effort. Very few would get such preferential treatment; most would get the cold, formal reception rooms at the front of the house.  
They entered the room. Harry instantly fell in love. Pale green walls, a rich wooden floor… the boards leading to large picture windows looking out over the lawn to the woods and lake beyond. Orange roses grew under the window, their perfume wafting through the room on the cool summer breeze. Next to the door stood a large fireplace in some sort of pale golden stone. Books, embroidery, a wizarding chess set on a table, a large desk beside one window, and couches – picked out in deep gold and a dark green. It was tastefully elegant. While there was a great deal of green, it was offset with the gold in the wood grain, stone and coverings. The ceiling and trim were stark white, and here and there brown accents set the colours off. It was cool and warm, and, balanced. Harry found himself entranced with the green and gold combination. Not quite Slytherin or Gryffindor colours; but close enough, and in harmony.  
Perched on one of the couches was Narcissa. She stood as the boys entered the room.  
“Well, Mr Potter. What can we do for you?”  
Harry took the seat opposite and accepted a cup of tea from a house-elf (not Trinny). The tea had a light citrus tang which suited the summery day, and the calm he had felt since entering the room. As he took a sip Draco took the seat beside him. An oddly comforting presence… perhaps due to his understanding of Dobby.  
The Malfoy’s were looking at him expectantly. Harry swallowed his tea to hide nerves. He had come here on a whim. He thought it was a good plan, but he had not thought about how he would broach the request to stay at all.  
“Hello Mrs Malfoy. How have you been?”  
“I’m very well, thank you.” A pause. “Mr Potter, forgive me, but I do think you are here to make small talk.”  
Harry swallowed. He was acutely aware of Draco’s thigh, so close beside his own. “I need somewhere to stay.”  
Narcissa settled deeper into her chair. Some tension seemed to leave her. Meanwhile Draco’s wrist, balancing on lap, just visible in the corner of Harry’s vision tensed, then released very deliberately. Harry leaned forward and balanced the delicate cup and saucer on a side table.   
“Just for a while. It’s just… a great many people want something from me right now, I need…. a break.”  
“Forgive me Mr Potter, we do understand. A great many people want things from the Malfoy’s also. And the manor shelters us and provides us with a ‘break’ as we need it. Grimmauld Place was my family’s home. I know it has similar enchantments. If you don’t allow people in they cannot bother you there.”  
Harry took a deep breath. He was not entirely sure what to say. Admit it was his nearest and dearest that bothered him the most? The politician’s and fan’s and requests for money he could handle. It was his friends, Ron, Hermione, Kingsley… and Ginny, most especially Ginny that he could not escape from. But how to say that to the Malfoy’s without breaking loyalty?  
Draco irrupted his thoughts. “Are you taking a break from work as well?”   
Harry started.   
“No Potter, you haven’t given anything away. But one would think that you were bothered at least as much at the Ministry as you are at home.”  
Harry sighed. “Clearly I have given everything away simply by seeking sanctuary here rather than at home or the Burrow.  
Yes, I need a break from work, from home, from everyone. I have already requested leave of absence from the Ministry.” He paused. “They will grant it, probably indefinitely. It really makes no sense for me to be an auror. I can’t walk down the street without getting mobbed. The idea of undercover is laughable. Hunting Dark Wizards. It’s just not possible at the moment.”  
“Mr Potter, Harry. May I call you Harry?”  
Harry nodded.  
“Excellent, you must call me Narcissa. Harry, is hunting dark wizards truly your vocation? Or is it simply something you fell into because of your destiny?”  
“I….. don’t know.”  
“Because Harry, you must consider your destiny, your prophesied destiny, it’s over. Your life is now yours, it’s up to you. You can decide.”  
Harry stared at his tea cup. The pattern, he suddenly realised, was enchanted. Small birds darted through leaves, presumably seeking pattern insects. Just as he realised this a moth appeared on the cup, one of the birds darted; and moth was no more. Perhaps not nice; but…. It didn’t bother him. He raised the cup to drink; to stall.  
“Perhaps that, above everything else, is why I need a break. I defeated Voldemort nearly three years ago. And since them I am barely keeping on top of things. I change because the world about me changes. And yet I am the same, just adapting as fast as I can, but always too slow.”   
Narcissa seemed to be looking at him with some sympathy. He didn’t dare look at Draco.  
He'd already told them so much, and what he hadn't said they could derive.   
“You know, I have no idea when Ginny moved in” he confessed. “It seems one day she was Ron’s sister, a girl I truly cared for, and was attracted to; but who I left behind when I went questing. And then she was there. And she’s brave and good and more than I could hope for; but, she just…. Suddenly she was living with me, and now she’s my fiancé, and... I can remember discussing marriage, I just.... I don't remember deciding anything about us at all. She’s just there. And I love her, I do, but…. Shouldn’t I have decided something, somewhere?”.  
Narcissa straightened.   
“You’re right Harry. You do need a break. And I strongly urge you to spend at least some of the time thinking about what you want. You will need to go back you know. Grimmauld Place needs a Master, and the wizarding world needs its hero. But you need to figure out what you want. You are welcome to stay here for a while.”  
Harry felt relieved. Narcissa and Draco seemed to be having some sort of eyebrow driven conversation over his head. He didn’t care. He had somewhere to escape!  
“Harry, as I said, you are welcome to stay here… but I think we can do better. You are a man of action, the manor could allow you a respite, but… would it really suit you? You may become bored.”  
“Oh no, Narcissa, I am very grateful to stay here, boredom is what I need.”  
“Harry, hear me out…. You don’t need boredom, you need a break, a chance to focus on you. You do need some thinking time, but too much thinking time…. It can lead people down strange paths. Lucius had too much thinking time. I have strongly urged Draco to have a career.”  
Draco cut in. “What mother is trying to build to Potter is that I am going hunting for some rare potions ingredients. They will be dangerous to acquire…. So she thinks it would be good if I had you. We are unlikely to meet many people, so you’ll get you freedom. There will be periods of boredom, so you’ll get your thinking time. In return I’ll get you, your skill and thirst for danger during brief periods of action.”  
Harry was tempted. “What are you looking for?”  
Draco looked conflicted.  
“Oh go on, darling. He needs to know eventually…. And if you him here with me I will tell him anyway so I have someone to share my fears with.”  
“Leviathan Tears and Megalodon Blood.”  
Harry gasped. “A sea voyage”.  
“Yes”.  
“Merlin, an adventure. I thought they were both extinct?”  
“Potter, you are not a muggle…. Stop believing what they tell you.”  
Narcissa breathed a gentle “Draco….”  
“Fine, yes…. It has been a rather long time since either were sighted. That’s what makes the ingredients so rare. And, of course if we find them we need to find some way of getting the ingredients without harming the beasts unnecessarily…. But….”  
Harry waited; what could possibly make Malfoy want to embark on such a crazy adventure?  
“There’s a book you see; by Ishmael the Perpetually Wet. It’s not that old. Two hundred years perhaps. He sights both beasts. He tracks them. He gains tears and venom, and he talks about the properties of each. They’re amazing Potter. If a quarter of what he says is true we could come up with a way to cure some many maladies of the mind, of the body. They wouldn’t cure death, but…. Ishmael’s brother was a werewolf you see; and Ishmael smuggled him aboard. They kept him chained during the full moon. And then they got the Leviathan tears, and they kept them in a barrel in the ships hold; right next to where he chained his brother… And one right, the brother was struggling, in pain, howling and screeming…. Ishmael wrote it all down, he was so afraid his brother would escape. The crew were terrified… they making plans to kill him before the next full moon…. And the noise shopped; no clanking chains, no whimpers, no shrieks, no scratching… Ishmael thought that maybe one of the crew had found the courage to creep down and slaughter the beast, but he was too afraid to go down himself.  
And at dawn he went down, and it was silent; and he began to weep, sure his brother was dead. And he opened the hold, and found a calm, and gentle wolf. Controlled, affectionate. He described him as his brother, but in beast form. And the cask of Leviathan tears was smashed, on the floor. His brother continued to transform peacefully the rest of his life. Pain-free, intelligent transformations. No Chains! A human spirit remaining! Merlin Potter, it was a splash – just a splash maybe; perhaps the wolf lapped some up – there was no way to tell. Ishmael didn’t say. But it must be the Leviathan tears, it must! Think what it would mean! And not just for werewolves, for anything overriding a human natural brain function… for life!”  
Harry was amazed. It wasn’t just the open passion in Draco’s voice, the belief… it was… he could catch a hint of his excitement.   
“Are you sure?”  
“Of course I’m not sure Potter, I’m getting this from reading between the lines of a drunken seafarer’s chaotic diary… but if I’m right….”  
Harry made up his mind. Even if Draco was wrong it was an exciting prospect…. Adventure, true adventure… and, based on his last experience of adventure…. Enough boredom for him to think. And if Draco was right…. The good that could be done…  
"Fine, Good, That sounds, Great actually. Leviathan Tears and Megalodon Venom. When do we leave?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,  
> Thank you all so much for the kudos I really appreciate it.  
> I perhaps need to rename this flick… The Magical Golden Crested Exploding Wren was going to be hugely symbolic as both Draco and Harry came to care about the it – showing their individual character growth and the strength of their relationship. I had visions of a massive party celebrating Draco’s potion with these birds swopping overhead shooting dozens of sparks and exploding into fireworks. (The Wren’s aren’t phoenix, then are not re-born from the ashes). Both Harry, Draco and the wizarding world would be awed by their beauty…. And I was going to fit some sort of premonition/procreation thing in there so it wasn’t just a bunch of birds exploding needlessly.   
> But it felt seriously forced last chapter, and even more forced this chapter… so I have given up and let the dratted bird go off and explode into the sunset on its own. It might still flitter back (I do kind of know what is meant to happen in this fic (let’s see if it gets there) and basically this vision of these incredible exploding birds is why I started….   
> So….

Three weeks had passed since Harry had first apperated to Malfoy manor.   
He was beginning to see just what a huge task he had agreed too. When Draco first proposed the hunt for the elusive Leviathan and Megalodon, leaving ‘shortly’ Harry hadn’t fully processed what that meant. He understood the beasts were rare, he understood it would be a search… but… He had sort of imagined that Draco would already have boats searching… it would be a matter of portkeying in and joining a group of good-natured sea weathered sailors on an epic adventure, probably based on a large luxurious Malfoy pleasure craft; they would track the beasts (easily) and the hard part would be gaining the tears and blood while doing minimal damage to the beasts. He now had an inkling that this epic adventure would be far more like his first epic adventure – albeit better organised, with an actual known goal, and (hopefully) without being forced to carry a malevolent locket spirit determined to suck joy out of everything.  
The reality was planning and permits and provisioning and practising spell after spell, and, for Harry, learning to sail.

The would actually be sailing the muggle way; and sailing a long, long way…. In a tiny little muggle yacht.  
Draco was convinced sailing; and the convergence of the South Atlantic Ocean and the Indian Ocean were their best chance.  
Harry, having recently joined the team (of two), knew very little about where to start looking. But he knew enough to object quite vehemently to sailing about as far around the world as you could go before you start coming back again on a flimsy peace of driftwood-to-be when they hadn’t even tried looking closer to home.  
(Harry would never forget that night before Hagrid found him, thrown this way and that in dingy dinghy, sea spray beating his face, Dudley moaning in the bottom of the boat, and Aunt Petunia’s distinctly green visage bobbing across from him.)  
This had led to some interesting debates:  
“But whhhhy not magic?”  
“Really Potter? How many wizards do you know who travel by sea?”  
“?...” mumble, mumble “Drumstang.” (Obviously; how could Draco have forgotten that?)  
And Draco had sneered “Oh, Yes. In a boat which duck-dives under the surface and magically transports itself from one place to another, almost instantly. We will see so much, have such a chance to observe.”  
Mumble, mumble… “Victor Krum….” mumble “long journey” mumble “steering the boat” mumble.  
“And you believed Krum! He was competition Harry!”  
Harry’s face fell.  
“I’m sure you were friends” Draco soothed. “But…. He was a professional Quiditch player. He knew how to psyc out the competition; and you must admit, he was a little in awe of you. Saw you as the real competition. The famous Harry Potter – even managing to put your under-aged name into the cup. No doubt the reason he took such a shine to Granger was her so charming friendship with you… he knew she knew how to be around famous people. But you mustn’t believe a word he said. For goodness sake, he went to Drumstang. You went to Hogwarts. You were competing in the tri-wizard tournament. You were expected to lie to each other. It’s…. professional courtesy.”  
“I didn’t put my name in the cup! You know that Voldemort organised that. And you! You….! You have such strange thoughts. It’s not ‘expected’ for you to lie to each other Draco! And Krum was my friend.”  
“Yes? A good friend was he? Still in touch? Think about it for a minute Harry! The boat was clearly magic; it sprung out of the lake. A lake that was enclosed by land. Not connected to any other body of water. And a lake containing a massive giant squid; A squid that exists to repel intruders unless a Hogwarts professor was right there to welcome them. Come on Potter, why build a magical submarine capable of jumping between bodies of water and making it take a long-time to do so? They probably boarded the boat half an hour before arriving. They used the so-called travel time to practise their entrance.”  
Harry had backed down; he knew he had lost the sailing argument; although that did not stop him from taking a different tack; this time aimed at how far they would have to sail:  
“That’s other side of the world Malfoy!”  
“It’s the most likely place.”  
“But how to you know?”  
“Well Potty,” Draco had sneered, “There are no recorded recent sightings of either beast. Magical or Muggle….”  
“Exactly! You have absolutely no idea where these beasts are. I say we start closer to home.”  
“No. We’re starting here.” Draco gestured to the map.  
“It makes no sense. Neither of us know much about sailing, we should start closer to home.”  
“It’s my idea and I say we start here!” Another empathic gesture.  
“Well I’m going too and I say we start here!” Harry knocked Draco’s hand out of the way and equally emphatically gestured to somewhere much closer to Britain.  
Both men glared sullenly at the other.  
Draco tried again. “Really Harry” He pleaded, “I’ve done lots of research about this, we should start in the southern Atlantic.”  
“Why?”  
“Well…. There’s been no verified sightings in the Northern Hemisphere….”  
“Or the Southern!”  
“Or the Southern… but there’s a lot more ocean in the southern hemisphere….and a lot more people in the Northern. If they are in the North they’ve probably figured out a way to hide themselves from magic… (that’s why we’re sailing), and muggle. But if they’re in the south they are probably just staying away from people.”  
“But why soo far south. It will be cold Draco.” Harry whined.   
“This is where the warm northern currents flow down, and the cool southern currents flow up. There’s lots of wildlife…. And …. Well, we don’t know if they like the cold or the warm. It seems to be as good a place as any to start.”  
“Exactly Draco, why not start here, near Greenland. It’s much closer, we could practice sailing and get good at it before heading south. And if the beasts are here we will find them much faster.”  
“And if the beasts aren’t there we will have wasted months…”  
And round in circles the argument went. It did get Draco to consider Portkeying to Argentina and buying a boat once there. So Harry counted it as a win…. At least they would not have to sail their tiny two-person yacht from Britain.  
Later he tried a third time; again taking aim at sailing.  
Draco, in a surprisingly cheery mood immediately stated “Cheer up Potter. It’s an adventure. And one using muggle technology. Just think how much your future father-in-law will admire you.”  
The mention of Ginny did strange things to Harry’s insides; and the argument ended as soon as it had begun.  
Ginny was a sore point. Harry had stayed with the Malfoys for several days; and then returned to Grimmauld Place. After-all, his note had claimed he was gone for work. Anything longer than three days and Ginny would have asked questions.  
Gin had been pleased to see him, and wasn’t thinking about Quiditch when he got home. She had made a lovely dinner, and Harry had begun to think he had overreacted. He was very pleased she thought he was away on work rather than that he had stormed out in a huff.  
But he wasn’t sorry he had done it. Visiting the manor, planning with Draco, he enjoyed it. And the trip gave him a purpose and a goal. He felt refreshed and calmer than he had in a while.  
They hadn’t discussed it that first night. They had simply basked in each other’s company, enjoyed dinner, and gone to bed early. Ginny hadn’t mentioned the Harpies beyond that they had had a good session that day; she hadn’t mentioned Charlie and her parents desire to relocated him. Harry hadn’t wanted to bring the mood down by discussing his desire for change. It was simply easier not to mention Draco.  
For over a week they went on like that; Harry staying at home, and going to the manor during working hours. He stayed for dinner several times – sending a note to say he was working late. (After-all it was true.)  
Then last the weekend it had come to a head. Harry had known he needed to discuss his desire to leave the aurors, and start discussing the trip. He and Ginny would need to make some decisions.  
On the Friday he booked a table at Gin’s favourite restaurant in Diagon Alley. They went out to eat. Someone had let the press know they were there. Photographers pointing pictures at them. The public begging for autographs. Harry objected. Ginny told him to calm down. It would help her career to be seen in the papers. If the club saw she was recognised they would be keen to have her play games for her fans to see her. Harry saw red. They went home. There was yelling… on Ginny’s side it started with the fact Harry wasn’t supporting her. He yelled. His plan to leave the aurors slipped out (not rationally like he planned, but at loud volume); the fact he had been on leave, and doing something else during day. Screaming. Yelling. Suspicion. Malfoy’s name slipped out. Louder screaming and yelling (Naturally, the Malfoy’s and Weaseley’s hated each other – had for generations). Harry ended up walking out. He apperated directly to the manor.   
He had brushed past Trinny and stormed into Narcissa’s sitting room. She was in her dressing gown, a cup of herbal tea on the small table, a book in her hands.   
As he thundered into the room her eyebrows flew up and she calmly rose to her feet.  
“Do you need to talk about it?”  
Harry stared at her, indecisively seething. On one hand he was so angry. On the other, Ginny was still his fiancé. He owed he loyalty.  
Narcissa watched him as he pondered. While he debated she requested a cup of chamomile tea from Trinny. Then watched him drink it, anger leaching out of him.   
He finished the tea, and she sighed. “Go to bed. Sleep. Tomorrow morning you need to go home to Ginny. I’ll tell Draco not to expect you.”  
Harry left. As he slowly drifted off to sleep he wondered how it was that Narcissa knew him so well that he didn’t have to say a word.   
Just as his brain finally went totally blank he wondered at what point he had earned himself his own room at the manor.


End file.
